


Moon and Stars

by MarigoldVance



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves, FiKiWeek2020 (Day 6), M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance
Summary: “I have loved the stars too truly, Fee, to be fearful of the night.”
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19
Collections: FiKi Week 2020





	Moon and Stars

Fíli had grown accustomed to it; the fear, the anger, the abhorrence. The downcast eyes and displays of submission, small efforts to keep Fíli appeased and away from them. They didn’t want to give him a reason to show them what he had become capable of. 

It didn’t bother Fíli nearly as much as it should of. He was allowed to live in peace - outside of the village, yes, but he wasn’t ostracized as the old crone and her too-intelligent daughter had been. He was able to visit the market freely and fish the same pond, visit the apothecary and the shoemaker and whoever else’s services he might require. Some refused to serve him if their moods were sour but most were accommodating, albeit reluctantly.

They tolerated him. Largely due to who he’d been _before_ : A nobleman’s son destined to step into his father’s shoes someday. His father was a pillar of the community, giving more than he made and always there for those who sought help, and it was for this that Fíli hadn’t been chased away by fire and iron. 

Fíli hoped he could still be half as good as the man who’d raised him. 

It wouldn’t matter, he knew, because they all saw deeper than his golden exterior, right down to the beast that hid beneath his skin. No matter how _good_ Fíli was, it would never be enough for them to accept him. 

In a way he didn’t want to fully admit to, they had every reason not to feel safe. 

_Monster_ , they whispered, heads together and hands covering their mouths, unaware that he could hear them as clearly as if they were speaking their opinions to him directly - _Demon, Animal_... 

The loneliness was agony.

-*-

The first moon had been the hardest. The second hadn’t fared any better. He’d chained himself down and drove spikes into his thighs whenever the beast threatened to overwhelm him. It was the third moon that Fíli learned the beast wasn’t always the enemy. 

In the days following, careful and conscious, Fíli explored the depths of his second self. He could shift back and forth - fur to flesh, fangs to blunt teeth, beast to human and human to beast - on a whim. He whipped through the trees and jumped over wide brooks like he was made of hurricanes; he could lift and carry every buck he hunted as if they weighed the same as baby birds. 

Yet, his control only lasted as long as the month leading up to the waning gibbous moon. And then it was chains and spikes and overexertion. Fear, hate, anger, fear again cycling through him. Fíli understood that, if left free to its own will, the beast would easily consume and destroy everything in its path without remorse. Fíli tried his best to keep control but it never lasted on those nights, once a month, when the beast ran closest to the surface. 

And so, for the sake of all, the loneliness continued, the beast inside Fíli’s only companion. 

-*-

It was two years into the _after_ when Fíli stumbled upon someone he assumed he’d never see again. Someone he’d left behind willingly in order to save them both. 

Kíli was sitting alone on the large, flat rock at the center of Fíli’s thicket - a place he frequented when the weather was nice; where he’d sun himself in his fur with nothing to fear but busy flies. Without looking up from his hands, Kíli spoke: _I didn’t think I’d ever see you again_. 

The pain and remorse in Kíli’s voice hurt more than the snapping bones and bleeding gums of Fíli’s transformation. Kíli’s sadness was palpable the closer Fíli got to him, thick and acidic in the air and in Fíli’s nose. Fíli couldn’t _breathe_ , it stung his eyes and throat and, when Kíli finally looked up at him, it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” He gasped wetly. “I’m so sorry, Kee.”

Kíli shook his head and looked back down at his hands, fingers picking at each other nervously. His shoulders were slumped and his face was paler than Fíli remembered it being before he fled. 

“No.” Kíli said quietly, “No, I don’t want you to be sorry.” He paused, the silence stretching thin. Then he said, “I could have come sooner, I suppose. But father wouldn’t allow it ...” Kíli glanced over Fíli’s shoulder into the woods when he announced, “Father’s dead now.”

Fíli lurched as if he’d been struck in the gut. The news wasn’t entirely a surprise; he’d heard bits of conversation in town a month ago, but it hadn’t been _real_. Not until it fell from Kíli’s lips like a hammer on a nail. 

Fíli moved until he was standing in front of Kíli, practically between the V of Kíli’s legs where they were spread as he sat in his melancholy. He lifted a hand to caress Kíli’s cheek and the beast inside of him crooned when Kíli returned the affection, nuzzling his face into Fíli’s palm. 

“I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

Kíli scoffed, a flicker of defiance in his eye that Fíli had missed so much. “You shouldn’t have left at all. But, then again, you are known to be a fool at the best of times.”

Fíli’s lips twitched. He hadn’t smiled in so long that the feeling was unfamiliar. Kíli had always had a way of making Fíli feel a bit like an idiot and now was no exception. 

“You’re right.” Fíli admitted, “I was a fool.” His tone became desperate as he plowed ahead, “But Kíli, you have to unders—”

“ _No_.” Kíli warned, grabbing Fíli’s wrist and pulling Fíli’s hand away from his face, surging to his feet so they were eye to eye, so close that Kíli’s breath was hot and damp on Fíli’s cheeks. “You don’t get to pretend that you did any of it for _me_. You didn’t. You’re selfish, Fee! You took everything with you when you ran and you left nothing behind.”

Fíli’s expression crumpled, “I left what I loved most.” He choked. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did. You just didn’t want to believe you had one.” 

“Kee, I’m an animal. I can control it only to an extent ... The anger, the hate; they simmer so close to the surface, I couldn’t risk hurting you. What if,” Fíli’s voice scratched through his teeth, “What if I _killed you_ , Kíli?”

Kíli stared at Fíli for a long moment, his eyes boring into Fíli’s core as if he could speak to the beast with his mind. It made Fíli uncomfortable, thinking that Kíli would even _want_ to. The beast, however, preened at the devotion and attention Kíli was doting. 

“You haven’t killed anyone, Fee.” Kíli said at last. “Why would you suddenly feel compelled to?”

“I don’t _care_ about anyone else! They don’t matter - they stay away! But you ... ” Fíli took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped in as close as he could get, his front pressed in a line against Kíli’s. He shook Kíli’s hand free of his wrist so he could run his fingers over the length of Kíli’s neck, settle them in the fluffy waves at Kíli’s nape. He chuckled as he said, “You’ve never been one to sit idly by and keep your mouth shut.”

“Exactly why you shouldn’t have left.” 

“Exactly why I had to,” Fíli emended. “I would throw myself into the sun if I ever did anything to cause you harm or to make you look at me like ...”

“Like everyone else?”

Fíli nodded.

Kíli leaned forward to rest his brow against Fíli’s. They closed their eyes and soaked in each other’s presence. Fíli listened to Kíli’s heartbeat, steady and strong; he smelled Kíli’s scent, reveled in its warmth and comfort. He felt more complete than he had ever in his life, even _before_. There was a shift in the air between them and Fíli knew a decision had been made without him. A promise between Kíli and his beast. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” Fíli whispered, “Of loving a monster?”

Kíli said it with such conviction that Fíli almost buckled under the immensity of it: “I have loved the stars too truly, Fee, to be fearful of the night.”

At Fíli’s consenting nod, Kíli embraced him, trembling and tearful, and led him to settle on the soft ground at the base of Fíli’s rock. Kíli assured him with words and touches that Fíli was perfect, beautiful; that Fíli could never hurt Kíli. Taken apart piece by piece under Kíli’s hands and mouth, reassembled as something more whole, Fíli believed him. 

The beast within him howled its pleasure and proclaimed that Fíli would never be alone again. 


End file.
